Ially,Draowasatalossforwords.Hewasn’tsureifitwastheUnbreakableVoworthefatthatPotterhadleftnospaebetweenthem.Maybeitwassomethinginbetweenthetwo.AllheoulddowasorateonbreathingandativelyfousonasmallfiberofsomethingaughtinthepurpleshagoatonHarry’sshoulder.
Hedidn’twanttothinkabouthowHarry’sfrustratedreationlitsomethinginsideofhim,orhowmessedupthatmadehimfeel.Draoknewwhatlovewas.Heknewwhatitmeanttobetetheredtosomeoneandyearnfortheirhappinessandsafety.TherewerethosehelovedlikehismotherorPansy.Heknewofdesire,ofbuildinguptotheedgeofoblivionandthenshatteringoneselfafteramomentofitstouh.WhilemanypeoplewouldstatethatwhatDraoandHarrymighthavefeltintheirpastwashatetowardeahother,Draodisagreed.Suhapowerfulemotionlikehatredhadfewfaets,towishharmuponsomeone,retribution,revenge,andtheompletedismantlingofeverythingthatpersonbothlovedanddesiredbeforetheirveryeyes.Ashe’dometouandtheminthatmoment,Drao’sfeelingsforHarryweren’texatlylove,desire,orhatebutinsteadamaddeningombinationofallthree,neverstayingonstant,alwayshangingwiththeflikerofastareorthewitoffatongue.
Thethreadshesawthatoedthemseemedtoprovehispointinthewaythey’dhangedeverytimetheytouhed,argued,agreed,orsomehowomfortedtheother.
“Well?”Harrybreathed.
“Ithinkyouknowtheanswertothat.”Draomethiseyes.“Ithinkyou’veknownforawhile,youjustouldn’tadmitit.”
HarryletgoofDraoandturnedaway.“What’sthatsupposedtomean?”
Thelossofontatalmosthurt.“I’mnotabloodymindhealer,Potter,howthefukwouldIknowwhatgoesoninyoursar-addledhead?”Draorolledhiseyesandshookhishead.HeneededtotellHarrythetruth,andheneededtokeepalevelhead.“BeauseifI’mnotinoppositiontoyou,thenitmustmean,onsomelevel,I’mwithyou.”DraowathedasHarry’shestrexed,shiftingtosomethingrhythmiandmoreeven.HisalmseemedtoreaharosstheroomandpullDraotowardhim.
“Sometimes,”Harrystartedtosaybutstopped.HeturnedandgazedatDrao,whoalmostgaspedatthedisillusiohefoundwithinthem.“SometimesitfeelslikeIknoweverythingaboutyou,andsometimesitfeels—”heshookhishead“—itjustfeelslikeitwillneverbeenough.”
“I’mursed,”Draorushedout.Hethoughtbrieflyitmight’vebeenHarry’srawhoythatompelledhimtotelloneofhisstserets.Harry’seyeswentwideandhetookasteptowardDrao,whoshookhisheadandbithislip.“Thereweresixofusursed,”heexpined.“Grangerinluded.”
HarrygrabbedDrao’shand.“Whatsortofurse?Areyoutwoinger?”
“Eahurseisdifferent,Ian’tspeakforhers,butmineis—well,it’shardtoexpin.It’slikeIanseeFate.Iseethethreadsbetweenpeople.”
Potterwasquietforalongtime,buthishandremainedfirmlyedaroundDrao’s.“Soallthatnonsenseaboutfatehavingwovenustogether,”Potterstarted.
“Turnsoutit’snotnonsense.”
“Sothesethreads,”Pottersaid.“There’soneoingus?”
“Yououldsaythat,”wasallDraoouldbringhimselftosay.HowouldhetellHarry?Howouldhefindthewordstoexpinthethikestthreadshe’dseenwerethefourthattetheredthemtoeahother?
PotterspokeupsoDraowouldn’thaveto.“Isitbeauseofthease?We’remeanttodothistogether?”Draoknewhisfaewasbetrayinghim.“Nottheasethen.”
Draodeidedtoexpinwhatheuoodaboutthreadsingeneralities.“Idon’tseethemallthetime.Theyappearinmomentswheretheoionsarerelevantorsimplylose.Therearethreadsforpastlinks,present,andfuture.Threadsforlove,hate,orrather—variationsoflightanddarkness.Ittakesabitoftimetolearnthegradients,theolors,andtheirmeaning.”Draotookabreath.“Ithink—beauseI’mapersonwithmyownoions,notanoutsidefore—Ifeelpulledtoertainthreads,drawnforwardtoatinservieofmyowniabledesign.”
“Sotherearemultiplethreadsbetweenus?”Pottertookasteploser.Draoouldbarelybreathe.SuddenlytheywereinhesapartandallheouldfousonwasthefervenyinPotter’sgaze.
“Past,”Draonodded.
“I’dimagine,”Potter’slipsquirked.
“Present.”Draoswallowed.Heouldn’tholdPotter’sgazeanylongersohestaredatthethreadsoingthem,thearrayabloomingdispyofmagifores.Potterlookeddown,followingDrao’sgaze.HespreadhishandonDrao’shest.ThewarmthofPotter’stouhalmostburnedhim.Abriefpause,andPotterlookedupintoDrao’seyesandDraowasn’tsurewhosaid,“Future?”
Theystoodtheresolose,staringateahotherwithinexpliableantiipation.Draorealizedhewasleaning,losingthegapbetweenthem,physially,emotionally,he’dneverdreamedofbeingthatlosetoHarryPotterinhislife.Potter’seyesfluttered,andDraothoughtMaybe.
“Harry,”hewhispered.
Potter’seyesshotopen.“Isthatapnt?”hebreathedandpushedDraoaway,rushingtotheorneroftheroomnearargewindow.“Isitinquollisaniorpus?”
“Idon’tknow,”Draoaknowledged.“Givemeamomentwhilethebloodrushesbaktomybrain.”
Potter’seyesdartedtoDrao’sroth.Heflushedandturnedbaktowardthewindow.Washeembarrassed?Ashamed?Potter’sformseemedtenseashestoodappraisingthetall,leafyflora.“Wehavetogetbakfortheransomdrop.”
“NotifweonvineZivantustofixthismess!”
“Youmustknowbynowwean’tdothat!Wean’thangeanything.Don’tyousee?”Potterpointedtothergepottedpnt.Itwasnearlyastallas
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